This post has presented a bit of a challenge for me.
Reading
through the ‘Guest Bed’ posts, it is easy to see why. Our relationship with
gardening can be a rollercoaster of emotion, with heady highs of success and
shattering lows of disappointment (usually in the form of pest and disease).
Initially I was going to write about gratitude. Since
leaving my career and taking up a college place studying horticulture, this has
featured predominantly in my psyche. Then again, so too have panic and doubt.
Then it came to me as I was having a chat with a classmate about the joys of seed
propagation. It was obvious to me I experience an emotional response to this
plant process, but I don’t know what it is called. It may have a proper name, but in the meantime it shall be known
as planternal instinct. I explain it below.
I recently sowed six varieties of chilli seeds. I popped them in the
propagator and placed it on a south-facing windowsill. I gave each of the 18 seeds its own module,
thinking some of the seeds might be a bit old and fail to germinate. In the past
I put a few seeds in the same pot and was then faced with the decision to
either kill off the weaker ones or rescue them all. I opted for the latter and
recall spending half an hour staring at these sorry looking, wilted seedlings
having detangled them from one another to put them into their own pots. It was
touch and go for a while, but all made a good recovery. I wasn’t about to put
myself through that again. 
To my delight and surprise, all of the seeds germinated. And
which select few will I be potting off? I do not need the wisdom of Solomon to
solve this quandary. All of them will be moving on to new containers. I want
them all. I don’t care how big, inconvenient and demanding they become. The bond
has formed and cannot be broken. These plants will bear the fruits of my seed
packets. As far as I’m concerned Thompson & Morgan, Sea Spring Seeds and
Unwins have played their brief part, but the responsibility for how these
plants mature is down to me. I want them to make me proud and will do all that
is in my power to nurture them into successful high yielding plants. I will
protect them from the lurking monsters ready to pounce as soon as my back is
turned. I will be waiting for you red spider mite and whitefly. Nobody puts
baby in the corner. Not unless it has good natural light, with ideal humidity
and first-rate ventilation.
I guess simply put, the emotion I am trying to describe is
love. It is the hub of our emotional bond with plants, as without it we
wouldn’t care so much when things do well or badly. I have been told I will
have to become ruthless if I end up propagating professionally. There’s no
sentiment to be had in the business of nursery stock production. I have no
problem with that. Our decision processes at work are often different to those
we employ at home. At home we are more emotionally invested and in my domestic
environment, all my seeds will be given a chance.
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Kate's post is the latest in the series of guest posts in my ever cosy bed. Kate has taken the bold and brave step of leaving a high flying legal career to find herself in nature through a horticulture course, or in actual fact just ride big machinery all day long. You can read more about her shenanigans on her website http://katesgardenramble.com/
If you want to indulge in the emotional depths of others, then snuggle up with the other gardeners over in the guest bed
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